


Caffrey’s Copies

by tinyginger



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Awesome Elizabeth Burke (White Collar), Bisexual Neal Caffrey, Children, Established Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey, Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, Neal Caffrey Needs a Hug, Neal is a dad, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, P/E/N - Freeform, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Neglect, Past Relationship(s), Protective Elizabeth Burke (White Collar), Protective Mozzie (White Collar), Protective Neal Caffrey, Protective Peter Burke, Secrets, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyginger/pseuds/tinyginger
Summary: Neal still has his secrets, but El and Peter love him anyway (and they might love him even more when they find learn his secrets).
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey, Neal Caffrey & Alex Hunter, Neal Caffrey & June Ellington, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Past Neal Caffrey/Alex Hunter, past Neal Caffrey/Kate Moreau - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Caffrey’s Copies

**Author's Note:**

> Starts after the last episode of season 2. Somewhere between S2E16 “Under the Radar” and S3E1 “On Guard”

There were things that Elizabeth and Peter assumed they were never going to know about their boyfriend. Most of their questions were never given a straight answer. Whenever asked if Neal Caffrey really was his real name, the actual day he was born, if he really had a gap in his teeth when he was in the second grade, Neal would find a way to answer their question without actually answering it. There were also things about Neal they knew they would never learn, mostly the facts of his past. He never spoke of his mother, the only thing they knew of his father was he died when Neal was very young, and he met Mozzie when he was a young man. 

Peter had tried to look into Neal’s past when he was trying to catch the conman the first time, but had found nothing on the man from before the FBI started their investigation. It seemed as if “Neal Caffrey” didn’t ever exist until Peter started looking for “James Bonds”. Even with the doubt of Neal Caffrey being their boyfriend’s real name, that was who he was now, and even if it was an alias or a fake identity or even a new identity, Neal Caffrey is who they loved. 

It was too easy to fall into bed with the conman. He was a comforting presence but not an intrusive one. Somehow, the man could commandeer all the attention in the room but also slip into the background and disappear. Both El and Peter assumed Neal would be the center of their attention and bring excitement to everything. The man was constantly moving, his mind always working, and his attention constantly flitting from one thing to another even when focused. But he was calm with them, once he got comfortable. 

It usually took an hour or two before the contentment set in for their lover, but when it did he went from the overly charming always  _ on _ conman to this sweet man who would sit and listen to them talk for hours while he sketched them. 

With the ankle tracker, Neal was careful never to stay too long at the Burkes without a good reason. That didn’t mean that Peter and El couldn’t spend the night at Neal’s. More often than not, they’d end up falling asleep in his bed, though it was rare for Neal to fall asleep next to them. It was almost like he didn’t know how he fit into their more tender moments. He could do casual and the sex was easy to figure out, but it was the moments when El and Peter were husband and wife that Neal tended to shy away from. 

However, Neal had been distant for a while. Peter could tell something was eating him after the kidnapping. He’d tried to talk about Adler, Kate, Alex, and everything that happened, but Neal evaded every attempt and avoided any attempts from Peter and El to talk. He hadn’t settled or calmed down during any of their nights together. 

El finally had enough and decided to take charge of her boys. That’s how they ended up laying in Neal’s bed, the young man passed out between the couple. El brushed some of his curls from his forehead and smiled when he nuzzled into her touch. The man had been exhausted for days, probably for weeks but his ability to hide, change and manipulate his emotions to fit what he needed made it hard to pinpoint just how bad of he was until they were half way through dinner, four glasses of wine in, and he was nodding off and dropping his fork on the floor. 

“Do you think he’ll be alright alone this weekend?” El whispered to Peter who was spooning Neal, both her boys facing her. Her husband was focused on the bare, freckled shoulder that his fingers were tracing over the pale skin. 

“He’s always fine,” Peter sighed. “That’s what worries me.”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to call Lena and tell her we can’t come this weekend,” El decided. “Or, I’ll go and you stay here with him.”

“I’m fine,” Neal mumbled, his eyes still closed. “You guys are going. It’s your godson’s first birthday, you have to be there.”

“Go back to sleep, Neal,” Peter spoke firmly, yet quietly, punctuating his command with a kiss to Neal’s shoulder. 

“Mozzie will be here, I’ll have Diana and Jones if I need an agent, and June calls every morning to check on me,” Neal smirked. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I want to see pictures of baby Caleb in that cute little cowboy outfit we bought him.”

That night, Neal slept between El and Peter, content and safe in the arms of his lovers. He wasn’t sure he would ever sleep in this position again, but he relished in it. The next morning, he woke with his leg thrown over Peter’s legs and El laying on his chest, her hair tickling his nose. He smiled and let himself lay there for a while longer. Peter was the next to wake up, he had set an alarm so they could get up and get ready to go, already having their bags packed and the car outside. They planned to just leave from Neal’s place and come back on their way home. 

They left after eating the breakfast Neal made for them, promising to call him that night. He then was left alone. Moz was MIA, Peter and Elizabeth were away, June was on vacation with her family, and he wasn’t needed at the office or worried about being mixed up in anything that could land him back in prison. It was an actual weekend off. 

He started the weekend by sitting on the terrace drinking espresso and sketching. He started with buildings and the architecture around him, which lead him to sketching furniture and snapshots from memories of the places he’s been, which lead him to sketching the people he’s seen, which lead him to sketching Peter and El, then Mozzie, then Kate, then… Alex. Alex holding a swaddled bundle. Then the infant’s hand wrapped around his finger.

He set the sketchbook down and walked to his favorite hiding place in his wall. Inside was a box filled with letters. The newest one cam in four days ago and he hadn’t had a chance to read it yet. As he looked it over, he smiled when he saw the near perfect forgery of a stamp. 

“Anything to save a few dollars,” Neal chuckled as he opened the envelope. 

It started like all their letters. 

_ N.Y.C.,  _

_ How are you? I hope you’re well. 1st, I’d like to say I miss you. Words cannot begin to describe how much I long to see you, two years is far too long between visits and six years is incomprehensibly too long since we’ve lived in the same city. Paragraphs in a messy handwritten letter are so impersonal compared to being able to look into a person’s eyes while you chat.  _

_ I’m doing well in school, as you probably know. I do not wish to brag but I am at the top of my class. Though, there is a boy here who is threatening to overtake my status. I may have to resort to less academic ways of ensuring my spot. It is not my fault boys of this age or any age really cannot concentrate when the heat outside is too high for us girls to wear long sleeve turtle necks and heavy trousers that cover our knees and ankles. God forbid they see my shoulder or collar bone. Let me die of heat stroke before I hinder my male peer’s learning with inches of skin.  _

_ Coming here was a great idea, in all honesty. I know I had some resignations about school, namely that I would be too smart and too bored and ignore my responsibilities. But I must admit, I enjoy it. Once I tested out of those boring classes and started working with real professionals that’s when the real fun started. Not to mention, the mentor I have really makes studying exciting. I don’t know how much I’ve told you about him but he’s older, gray hair, four kids all around my age, and brilliant. It’s sad though, his children barely talk to him. His wife is beautiful, so far out of his league it’s funny, but they are in love, no doubt about it. Johnny says there are no two people happier in the world than them, and I’m inclined to agree. Seb and I have been in Italy, where him and his wife live most of the time. We’re both in an accelerated program, mainly working with our mentor on projects and learning from them in a more intimate setting. I do miss France though, we make trips every so often because we are still in school, but we’ve spent most of our breaks in Italy.  _

_ To be completely honest with you, I’m not sure I can learn much more from Sig. Lorenzo. We’ve been studying under him for going on four years now, and in all that time he’s taught me many valuable things, but I’ve grown stagnant. A state I much despise. Seb is talking about new and better things and I’m starting to dream of these things as well. With graduation coming up soon, and everyone getting ready to do their own things I’m thinking about traveling, maybe coming back to the states for a while. Matteo doesn’t know where he’s going but he plans on leaving France the month after graduation. I don’t know when I’ll go, maybe I’ll stay, maybe Johnny will try and rope me into going to Austria with him. Or maybe, Mal will come back and break my heart again or finally convince me to follow her to Beijing. Who knows, maybe I’ll break her heart this time. Cami is already in the states and has invited me to “invade Canada” as she says, though I think she just wants to keep me from going with Mal and getting my heart broke again. _

_ You would be happy to know, I’ve spoken with Mrs. Brooks. She is the same as always. Though, I fear she is slipping farther and farther from us. She barely recognized me this time. Wether that was the booz, the blow, or her grief I couldn’t tell. I will not lie to you and tell you she says “hi” or anything of the sort. She was, as always, incoherent for most of my visit. Her neighbor is doing well though, she says she misses you but understands why you haven’t been to see her in so long. She sends her love. Being away from you and our family for so long is painful. I miss you. Tell Mr. Winters I miss him as well and that if he would like, he should come visit me over break. Better yet, have him bring me there! I’d love to see New York. I’ve heard so many things about the place. It’s both alluring and terrifying to think of you there, doing the things you do. Please be careful, with all of it.  _

_ Much love,  _ _  
_ _ A.M.E. _

Neal smiled and traced his fingers over the curves of the letters. She was growing up. Over the years he’d witnessed her mind mature as her writing became more and more adult. He could pinpoint the start of her explorations into the world with how her analogies and saying changed. He could mark the date she first experimented with all that inebriate by the near incoherent letter he received followed by a shakily written one explaining everything. He knew of her first heartbreak as he stared down at the tear stained paper, with bleeding ink and tears in the paper when her hand got a bit too heavy in her heartache. He knew her writing better than he knew her face, but her writing was an extension of her heart. He took refuge in knowing he knew her heart better than he knew her masks. 

The first time he’d seen her after he’d been arrested was the week Peter and Elizabeth were away for their anniversary. They spent the week on his terrace, drinking and smoking. Neither spoke much, they weren’t in the head spaces to do much more than stare at the clouds and watch the sky go from pale blue, to swirling pinks and oranges, to dark blue and back. Neal had been working through his time in prison and coming to terms with his new leash, and she had been haunted by something so deep it bruised her bones and filled her mind with demons. 

She was doing better, he could tell from the smooth letters written by a steady, yet maybe a little angry hand. 

He chuckled when he recognized the easy code she used. Old habits die hard, especially when they were ingrained in you from the time you were born.  _ I’m coming to you. _ The lack of details and the implications of those four words made Neal’s heart race. It was times like this, when he was worried about the people he loved, that he despised the two mile radius. 

He thought about calling Mozzie, pulling him from whatever he was working on and asking him to go find her before she got hurt, but he thought better of it. Though young, she was very capable. Knowing her, she’d be there any day now. The letter had been postmarked seven days prior, she most likely sent it when she was already a half day’s journey from school. 

He decided to prepare. He gathered what he needed for chili and set it up on slow cook. Hopefully by the time she arrived, most likely hungry and exhausted the chili would be ready to eat. After they ate, he would get her set up in the shower then fix up a bed for her. He’d allow her to settle in and rest before he’d start the interrogation.

Once the food was cooking, he set himself up at an easel and started painting. His mind was racing, excited and nervous at the same time. His hands shook a bit, his anxiety getting the best of him for a moment, but painting helped. He painted until he heard the quiet sound of a short partner tapped at his window. 

He smiled, standing from his stool and walking over to the unlocked large doors, “You could’ve used the front door, you know.”

“Eh, old habits,” The voice of his angel came from her hiding place. 

She stood in front of him, a young woman, no longer the young, thirteen year old girl who stood in front of him and cried when he told her he was going away for a few years, and more put together and older than the strung out seventeen year old who cried into his chest when she first saw him again two years ago. Most of her childlike features, that had still been present at seventeen, had been replaced by those of a young adult. A heavy ache settled deep in chest as he looked her over. 

“My god,” He gasped out, she wasn’t his little girl anymore. “You’re grown.”

“That’s what happens,” She replied, still standing a few feet from him. “Fathers go to jail and daughters grow up.”

A dagger went through Neal’s heart at her words but he nodded, they were both hurting right now. He could apologize, he’d done it so many times before, in letters, over phone calls, in codes, in paintings, through Mozzie, but never when they were both together and sober. 

“I’m sorry,” His voice caught. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I’m sorry for abandoning you. I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Thank you,” She sighed. “But you didn’t abandon me. Never. You were protecting me.”

“If I was protecting you, you wouldn't have tears in your eyes right now,” He commented.

“Ah, but the alternative is worse,” She countered, then stepped forward. “I’m going to hug you now.”

He nodded and met her half way, holding her so tight he worried briefly he was physically hurting her. But feeling her pressed against his chest, her face hidden in his shoulder, her tears soaking through his shirt, her fingers clinging to the back of his shirt, it felt too much like when she was a little girl to stop. He finally had her back in his arms and wasn’t going to let go. 

When they finally broke apart, Neal led her inside. She immediately started making herself at home, searching through the paintings, sketches, books and pictures he had decorating his apartment.

She paused on a sketch of Kate and sighed, “I heard about Kate, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry you missed the funeral,” He said. “I know how close you two were.”

“I wasn’t in a good place to come, and she would have scolded me for leaving school and breaking our arrangement anyway,” She shrugged. “I dedicated a song to her and got a lot of tips from the rich people at the party I was playing at. They love a good, “I’m missing my mother’s funeral tonight, so I’d like to play her favorite song and dedicate it to her” story.”

“She’d be proud,” Neal let out a wet chuckle. “Not just of that, but of you and everything you’re accomplishing. I know I am.”

As Neal planned, they ate and chatted, catching up on the six years they hadn’t seen each other. Even if they had both written to each other about almost everything that happened, talking about it in person made the stories real and complete. They could ask questions in real time and laugh together, get mad together, get sad together. 

“What happened there,” Neal asked, motioning to his own cheek but asking about the scabbed over cut on her’s.

“Scared a pigeon while scaling the side of your building,” She smirked. “I guess it wasn’t one of Mozzie’s.”

Neal chuckled and watched her take another bite of food. She had discarded her jacket earlier, before they started eating and her gray v-neck t-shirt revealed an angry bruise on her upper arm and a matching one peeking out from under her bra strap on her collarbone. 

“Are you expecting me to believe the pigeon gave you those bruises too?” He kept his voice light but the anger at whoever hurt her was there. 

“You know,” She gave him a smile that matched his own. “New York pigeons are just so angry.”

“I’ll make a note to tell Mozzie to get the pigeons of New York under control,” Neal winked at her. 

“Speaking of Moz… he around?” She asked. 

“MIA,” Neal shrugged. “I think he’s working with someone but I’m out of the loop.”

“Because of the new bling? Or because of the suits?”

Neal rolled his eyes, “You sound like him, you know?”

“What can I say?” She laughed. “The man helped raise me.”

“I’ve regretted that every day for the past nineteen years.”

“Oh, please!” She shook her head. “You love him and you know it.”

Neal did, they were family, “I do.”

“So… no idea when he’ll turn up again?”

“He usually comes by at least once a week for a refill,” Neal tapped his glass of wine. “He’s only been gone two days. He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“I’m not…” She sounded off but Neal didn’t comment, he didn’t want to ruin the night. 

They sat and ate for a little longer, Neal drinking his wine and she drinking her tea. Then Neal noticed her eyes starting to droop and little yawns escaping her mouth every few minutes. He was struck with a memory of her at five years old, wanting to stay up with him while he worked on a forgery. She sat with her chocolate milk, crayons and the sketchbook Neal provided for her and colored until sleep took over and she fell asleep with her little head pillowed on her sketchbook. 

“Do you want to shower or sleep first?” He asked, startling her from her half sleep state.

“Shower.”’

He showed her to the bathroom and got her everything she needed before cleaning up the kitchen and getting everything ready for her to sleep. He gave her the bed. He was used to falling asleep on the couch anyway. She wore one of his shirts like she used to as a young girl, though this time the shirt didn’t hang down to the floor. 

“Goodnight,” He spoke softly, kissing her forehead when she was settled under the covers. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” She smiled. “I really missed you.”

“You’re always welcome. Wherever I am, you have a home,” He promised. 

“Love you, Dad,” She whispered as she started to drift off. 

“I love you too, Bug.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes Neal is her father, yes he's like 34 and she's 19, yes i realize he'd have had to become a father at like 15 for this to be possible. All will be answered in the following chapters :)


End file.
